Dark Night  Bright Soul
by silversurf4
Summary: Set after S2 finale - Rachel's homecoming party & Jack Reese's death. Slight Crews & Reese - if you squint.   Added material 1 Oct 2011
1. Chapter 1

**Dark Night – Bright Soul**

"Hey," he called out to her as if the thought just occurred to him.

Then his tone becomes timid, conspiratorial. _He wants something_, she realizes.

"Uh, Rachel's come home. We're having – actually she's having a little party tonight – at the house, at my house. Would you come?"

It was odd – the whole thing. That it seemed like a last minute invite, that the usually sure and stolid Charlie Crews stumbled over it like a nervous school boy and that he was careful to ask her to come – and not if she wanted to.

Dani Reese had begrudgingly come to know many things about her partner. They came to her slowly filtered through the intense layers of sunshine that he projected, his false brightness as effective a shield as her dark armor.

Charlie Crews was not dumb; he knew what he was asking. He was asking her to come to a house full of noise and music and kids, but he didn't do it because he was sadistic. He asked because he needed her – he needed his partner. He was scared. Not of the liquor or the music, but the people and having people in his inner sanctum – that monstrosity of a house that he lived in because he hated the idea of being confined again. He who never asked for anything – asked her for this.

"Reese?" He shifted his weight and waited expectantly for her reply.

In classic Dani Reese style, she never actually said yes, "What time?"

The sigh of relief that escaped him was palpable. He didn't even try to hide it, "9 o'clock."

Later that night, he was standing alone on the quiet stone portico in the moonlight. All the lights in the house were on, but Charlie stood in the dark recesses at the edge of the world. He felt them – the house full of people pressing in on him. He was a bright soul on a dark night, like that moon hung low in the sky; so unlike the other celestial objects. At times like these he felt alone because he didn't understand people anymore, he didn't get what they got, he didn't feel what they felt. He felt like a solitary spacemen on the lunar blasted surface of the moon he stared at.

He heard a door open and the sound of people living their lives roared in his ears for a moment before it shut again and faded. It was probably Ted coming to tell him to dutifully play host. He waited for the sounds of loafers on stone to reach him, but no such sound came.

Then suddenly, she was there, appearing at his elbow as if summoned by magic out of the fine thin air. Her approach was as silent as a layer of dense fog. She approached like a stealthy cat to stand beside him in the moonlight – his dark angel. She said nothing and made no effort to draw him back into the fold; but she did draw him back, simply by being there, by breathing beside him, by appreciating his stillness and his struggle – without meaningless words, gestures or commentary.

After a few moments, he sighed and stuffed both hands deep in his pants pockets. "I guess we should go back in," he offered risking a glance back at the stuffy confines of his massive house. It felt like he was slowly being suffocated in there when normally it felt spacious and was his comfort zone. It was all the people, all the noise. Parties now reminded him off prison in the moments before a riot. It made him nervous, edgy.

"Why?" her remark made him look down at her. A light breeze ruffled her hair and he noticed she was barefoot, hence her silent approach.

He shrugged, "I'm supposed to, I guess."

"Do you want to be in there?"

"No," he gave her the truth she deserved. "I don't. I feel like I have nothing in common with those people. Like they are a different species," he explained. "They look like us, but they aren't like us," he ended sounding forlorn.

"Us?" her lips twisted in a wry grin tugging at his tiny, shy heart.

"Well…I mean, I thought…" he rambled then stopped suddenly – embarrassed.

Sometimes she forgot just how broken he was. He was so good at pretending, but with her he dropped the pretense and let her see his fears. He trusted her, so she gave him a little something for his effort, "I do feel that way,"

Then her patented sarcasm returned, "just don't go lumping me in with your freakish hang-ups. I got enough of my own believe me. And don't think we're gonna have a group hug or anything," she remarked with her usual caustic wit. Dani used sarcasm the way he used Zen – as a shield against the world. He saw it for what it was and smiled anyway.

"I wanna get away from here," he surrendered more, "away from them," he gestured to the house.

"Didn't you throw this shindig?" she challenged.

"Yeah," he exhaled blowing his frustration at the heavens. "I thought could…"

"But you can't?"

"I can," he countered.

"You don't want to?"

"I'm tired, Reese. I'm so tired of pretending for everyone."

"Take off your shoes," she demanded and the look he shot her asked a silent question not unlike the ones she gave him when he invoked Zen.

"Just do it, Crews," she rolled her eyes. She then sat beside the pool, rolled up her pant legs and eased her feet into the water. "Come here and sit with me," she bade him. He was mute and compliant.

"Now put your feet in the water," she commanded.

He did as she instructed and then watched her lean back resting her elbows on the stone porch, drawing lazy circles in the water with her feet. He followed suit and turned his head to look at her.

Eventually, she reclined fully and put both hands behind her head to stare at the stars and after a time she spoke to him – really talked to him about something they shared, something that mattered. "When I was a kid, my dad and I argued - a lot," she patiently told him as they gazed out into the heavens.

"Some how that doesn't surprise me," he commented.

"Hush, I'm talking now," she rebuked him lightly. "I used to sneak out my house and go to my best friend Katie's," she drew him a mental picture. "She had a pool and we'd pretend it was our oasis in the desert with palm trees and camels. She'd sit with me and we'd do this for hours, until I summoned the courage to go home," she shared. "Something about the water, relaxes me."

"Hmmm," Crews agreed without conscious thought, as the fluid surrounding his legs and feet flowed through his toes. He imagined it flowing through his heart washing away the bitterness and fear. He felt it soften up stubborn stains of hate and slowly they melted away. They fell silent, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Reese was good at silence – it was one of the things he liked best about her.

"It isn't that I'm not glad to see her - Rachel," he said after a long time. "I really am. I'm just not ready for that…that," he gestured to overcome his lack of words for what he couldn't handle. "When I come here, I take off the cop and I just…" He stopped talking when he felt her warm hand in his.

"I know," she said as if that explained everything and maybe it did.

Rachel found them hours later while she was cleaning up. She figured Charlie would have melted away from the throng of young people celebrating her return, retreating to his room away from the music and people. It was too loud, too much. It was clutter – real and metaphorical – far too much for her fragile uncle to endure.

She was gazing out the window washing some glasses when she spied them reclining by the pool, their legs in the water and the tension she'd earlier observed in Charlie's affect was gone. She knew it was Dani even though she couldn't see her. The form, size and shape were right and only she could summon that level of ease from her guardian, almost father. She remembered her shrink telling her she didn't have to connect with everyone. He told her "all it takes for you not to be alone in this world is for one other person to get you." Dani Reese got Charlie – some times she didn't want to – but she did.

Rachel rapped her knuckles on the glass and was rewarded with a flash of red as Charlie's head lifted. He looked at the window and she smiled and waved him inside. He stood reluctantly, holding his shoes in one hand and offered his other to his partner. She climbed to her feet and dusted herself off. They came inside and Reese almost immediately made her apologies and vanished.

"Think we scared her off?"

"Nooo," Charlie laughed, "very little scares Reese. In fact I can't think of a thing that does," he lied. Charlie knew her fears nearly as completely as his own, but that was something he and Reese shared and a secret he would take to his grave.

She's good for you," Rachel commented in her best parental and approving tone.

"Ya think?" he wondered staring at the closed door. One minute Reese was real and warm beside him as close as to people could be and the next she was a phantom.

"I think…" Rachel ventured, "that she's not afraid of the darkness in you and with her you don't have to pretend." Her comment was far more personal than they'd ever gotten before.

"You're pretty smart for a kid," Charlie grinned at her. He looked after his absent partner a moment longer and then reengaged with Rachel, "Did you have fun tonight?"

"I did," she smiled. "I hadn't realized I'd made friends or that I'd missed them. It's almost like having a normal life."

"Except for the 'you live with the guy convicted of killing your whole family' part," he sounded chagrinned and cheerful at the same time.

"Uncle Charlie," Rachel protested rolling her eyes, "that is ancient history. All they care about is free food, the keg in the kitchen and the limo taking them home."

"And you…" he added.

"Maybe," she allowed herself the possibility of normalcy.

"I know I wasn't here – here, but I am glad you're home," he pulled her close and hugged her. She bristled for a just a moment and then relaxed and hugged him back.

As he pulled her into his embrace, Rachel was overwhelmed with it all, the warmth of his reaction, the familiarity of what she now considered her home and the sensation of being wanted, being loved. She dropped her head to his chest as tears came. She cried quietly against his chest for a few seconds as her emotions burst through the carefully constructed gates she'd built to confine them.

"It's okay," he shushed her, "you're safe now. You're home." He rocked her gently against him in a twisting motion of his upper body. "It's okay, Rachel." He kissed her gently on the forehead and sent her to bed. "I'll get the rest of this. Go to bed."

He cleaned up quietly and efficiently and when he finished he returned to stand on the patio again. This time the moon was directly overhead bathing the patio in a bluish grey light. The coyotes yipped wanting to howl, but not quite ready yet. They hadn't found their voice yet. Kind of like him – he thought. While Ted feared the coyotes, Charlie liked them. They were survivors, kindred souls.

He thought about Reese's gesture and what it meant. He hadn't expected her to come when he halfway extended the invitation. There would be kids and beer – two things she tried to avoid for different reasons. Then it dawned on him – like a bolt from the blue. She came for him. She some how knew he would need her and she came only for that reason. She rescued him as effectively as he'd ever done for her.

She was good for him just as Rachel said. And despite her frequent gruff protestations to the contrary, he was beginning to suspect she did like him. Rachel was right about something else too – he no longer pretended with Reese. He didn't see the need to. She knew the worst things he'd done and she never judged him for his violence and or his need for vengeance. Together they enforced fair rules, bent unfair ones and dispensed their own brand of justice. His partner – that word said so much about them now.

Down the hill she watched, from the darkened cab of her small car. He smiled in the moonlight as the first coyote burst into song and the eerie wail filled the canyon. Charlie turned and went back inside, the lights went off in sequence as he climbed the stairs to his room. When the house was dark and silent, she sparked her engine to life and drove home. It was what partners did – watched each other's backs.


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Note: For Kanbukai who suggested this needed another chapter..._

**Dark Night – Bright Soul **

**CHAPTER TWO**

"Crews," he answered the phone, gravel in his voice and sleep in his eyes.

He blinked at the clock and the bluish green numbers read 0353 hrs. Someone had to be dead for his phone to ring at this hour, but it came with the job title – Homicide.

"Reese?" he questioned when no one responded.

His notifications usually came from his senior partner, unless for some reason they couldn't reach her. Despite the fact that most homicides occur at odd times, their job was still mostly a 9-5 gig. The voice that answered this time however was not his partner's.

"Uh, no…" Tidwell answered after a long pause.

Charlie was instantly alert and concerned. _Had something happened to Reese?_

"Captain? Are you calling about a case? Or something else?" Charlie inquired already out of bed and headed to the bathroom to turn on his shower. Dead people didn't mind if you showed up without showering – but the living – Dani Reese usually did.

"Both," Tidwell said in clipped. "We got a body, but that's not why I called you."

"Okay?" Charlie was now beyond curious. "Captain? Is Reese okay?

"No," Tidwell answered. Charlie's heart leapt into his throat until the rest of the Captain's comment registered. "He's dead."

"He?" Charlie stammered, "Dani's father?"

"Yeah," Tidwell said sounding lost and out of his element. He was once again going to ask the man to do something he should – break bad news to and then console his girlfriend. She would accept comfort from Crews and he instinctively knew she would flee from any attempts by him to protect her, to shield her – no only Crews was afforded that privilege, that right. He was losing her and they both knew it.

"How?" Charlie asked, all business. He didn't give their changing relationship air to breathe or like a fire it would grow. But his question was a fair one; they both knew Dani would demand answers and not knowing would be unacceptable.

"GSW to the torso. Two shots. Both to the heart," Tidwell was terse and clinical, "lots of GSR on his shirt. It was up close, personal."

Guns discharge powder when a bullet is fired – they expel both unburned and burning powder from their barrel. It is what accounts for the phenomenon known as muzzle flash. If you are close enough when you shoot someone, that powder or gunshot reside gets on them or their clothing and creates a dusty, dark pattern that can be used to estimate distance in some instances.

From this, Charlie knew that who ever killed Jack Reese looked him in the face at probably less than two feet and shot him anyway. It was efficient, clinical and effective – it was also cold-blooded murder. "If you need someone to ID the body, I'll do it," Charlie offered, "I don't want her to have to," he explained something Tidwell already knew.

"We're good. Half a dozen cops here know him – knew him," Tidwell corrected. "I just need you to get to her," he paused, "before she hears it from someone else."

"I'm on my way there now," Charlie said. He'd long since turned off the shower and found his sneakers. He snapped the phone shut, laced up his shoes, brushed his teeth and combed his hair. No time for a shave. He was dressed in grey sweats; an Army green t-shirt and he grabbed a navy blue hoodie to stave off the cold night air.

He'd stop on the way for coffee. Reese was always better with caffeine.

As he waited for her triple shot mocha, he realized he had no idea how to do this.

Tidwell had the easy job tonight. A crime scene, even an all-nighter, would have been preferable to waking his partner up to tell her that her father was dead with two bullets to the chest. Double tapped like Special Forces taught their men. His mind played with the idea until barrista cleared her throat and gestured to the coffee sitting in the colorful cup before him. _Too cheery for a morning filled with death,_ he thought.

* * *

><p>He sat outside her house a few moments. <em>Should he call first? Or knock? <em>Either way she'd know immediately. There was nothing he could hide from his partner now. It would be on his face or in his voice before he actually got the words out. Maybe that was the key to this, letting her figure it out on her own.

Reese was smart, much more so that the other women who filtered in and out of his life. She intuited more than most people. She was a student of human nature and their partnering only further honed those instincts. She held true wonder for the things he saw and she did not. She watched him closely and now could predict what he would do before he did it, sometimes before he thought about doing it.

In the end, he settled for knocking. He rapped three times on her door moderately hard and waited. She would be asleep and her bedroom was down a long hallway. If she heard him, she'd wait to see if it was really someone knocking or some perverse twisted dream. About thirty seconds later, he knocked again. He watched as a light came on and he knew she'd be at the door; gun in hand, less than a minute later.

"Reese," he said clearly, "it's me. Open the door." He heard the tumbler in the locks spinning and knew she was doing as he'd directed.

She looked tired, partially asleep, but still managed to take his breath away. Her hair was loose and slightly wild. She wore an oversized shirt that hung loosely on her small frame, exposing one shoulder and a pair of legs that seemed too long for someone so petite. He tried not to notice her legs, but failed.

She glared at him and he mutely stuck the coffee cup at her. She wordlessly took the coffee and the door swung open. It was the unwritten price of admission to Casa de Dani – especially at just after 4AM.

He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. Reese was a private person and this was about as private a moment as there was. "Uh, you know I wouldn't be here unless it was bad news…" he opened and tried to get her to figure it out without him having to say the words.

She didn't disappoint, "it's my father isn't it?"

He nodded solemnly. He was relieved but he kept his expression neutral and stayed very still. He watched her closely for some sort of reaction, but she showed him nothing and then she went exactly where he expected her to, "How?"

"Two GSWs to the chest, close range, personal," he said holding her eyes.

She didn't look faint or flighty, but he didn't know what to expect. He never expected Reese to breakdown or cry, but he expected some kind of reaction.

Curiously, other than blinking several times in rapid succession, she showed no response at all, and then it dawned on him that she might be in shock.

"Okay," she said, then softer to herself again, "okay." Shock appeared more and more likely, until she looked at him and asked, "Why didn't you just call?"

"I wanted to be here in case…you know…." he wrung his neck feeling awkward.

She pivoted away from him breaking contact and robbing him of her eyes, which by now he read easily. "We both knew this day might come," she offered. She was letting him off easy. He could sense that a crash was coming, he could feel her emotions thickening the air around them but she wanted him to leave before she lost it. In that instant he knew that he wouldn't, that he couldn't – leave her – no matter how much she wanted him to.

"Reese…" he began.

"I appreciate you coming all this way," she interrupted showing him the door.

"I'm not leaving," he said standing his ground.

"Yes," she narrowed her eyes and pointedly finished, "you are."

"No," he met her dark eyes with his blue ones, "I'm not."

There was a silent battle in which she thrice shook her head and almost swore at him. He watched her lips form the words, but she couldn't set them free.

He stepped closer and her head snapped up.

"Don't," she warned him.

He walked right through that warning and her dirty look until he stood so close that she could feel the heat radiating from his body. Her arms were wrapped tightly around her torso covering her heart. She was protecting herself, but that was his job now. He gently and ever so carefully gathered her into his embrace. He thought she'd fight him harder, but she came quietly to him without much resistance finally resting her forehead against his sternum. He heard the guilty gulps of air as she fought tears.

He never envisioned a day in which he would be sorry Jack Reese was dead, but it appeared anyway. Her pain was clear and cutting to him as a bright light on a dark night. "Let go, honey," he said in a tight whisper. "You won't fall, I got you."

Her silent tears wet his t-shirt and his hand strayed from her back to stroke her hair. His chin rested atop her head and he summoned comforting words from a place so deep he couldn't remember the way there anymore, but for her - he found the way. They stayed that way for what seemed like a long time.

She stilled, quieted and drew back and he instinctively knew to release her and step away. There was a limit to the amount of comfort she would accept - even from him and they'd reached it. He waited while she wiped her face and eyes. Then he mutely retrieved her forgotten coffee and suggested she "better drink this before it gets cold."

She sat on her couch, but not trusting himself, he took up a post in a single chair where he could watch her but couldn't touch her like he wanted to. He wanted to keep her close, but knew she would only accept his help when she was ready and then only if it was her choice.

She stared at her hands for about ten minutes and he could tell her insides were still roiling, but she composed herself. The house was deathly quiet like a church or a graveyard. She spoke listing needs that came before her own. " I need to take a shower and get dressed. The Department will send a Chaplain and uniform to notify my mom. I need to be there."

"I'll take you," he promised and she nodded. Her bottom lip trembled slightly and her hand shook as she set the cup down and rose to leave.

"I'm gonna need to borrow a razor," he stroked his face nervously. "Can't very well meet your mom looking like a homeless guy," his self-effacing humor made her smile tightly, despite the tears in her eyes.

"I'll find you one," she said and left him alone in her quiet living room.

* * *

><p>Charlie waited but Reese did not return. After it was apparent she was putting her own needs first, he took the opportunity to engaged in seated meditation. The circumstances weren't the best, but it was starkly quiet and he was going to need every ounce of patience and calm to get her through the day.<p>

He sat still, closed his eyes, placed his upturned palms on his thighs and concentrated on breathing. He heard the gentle hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen and the whir of the air conditioner; he tuned them out. He breathed in and out and other sounds came to him, from the street, from the other room. He tuned each out in turn, traveling deeper and deeper into the complete blackness and void he sought.

Then a sound he could not ignore tickled his brain, the shower running and under that the sound of her crying. A flash of their first case came to him in that instant - her panic, her reaching out to him and them together in the shower of that crack house. It was as real as if it had just happened. His eyes snapped open and he didn't even take time to think about the consequences of walking into Dani's Reese's bathroom.

She was there in the steam, water streaming over her tanned lithe body, arms against the tiled wall as sobs escaped her. He grabbed a towel and stepped into the hot water. He covered her with the towel and reached for the water shut off. He turned her naked body into him and lifted her from the tub. She never stopped crying. This was the breakdown he feared.

He stood her on the bathroom floor and stepped into the bedroom for a blanket. The towel hid her nakedness but it was soaked through. He pulled it free and dropped it into the tub; it landed with a loud smack surprising them both. She jumped and her eyes were wild. He shushed her and reassured her, while keeping his eyes averted and wrapping the blanket around her. She stepped into his embrace and leaned into him. He felt her shivering despite the steam and hot water.

She seemed to finally have lost her grasp on things and actually clung to him as he lifted her to carry her to her bed. She didn't want him to leave and when he tried to release her, she shook her head stubbornly. He was soaked too; his sweats dripped water. He shed his hoodie and the t-shirt that was pasted to his chest. He ultimately decided to lose his sweats too and climbed into bed with her wearing just his boxer briefs. He pulled another blanket over them both and rubbed her arms and back trying to warm her up.

Her crying had stopped, but she remained tearful, entirely mute and cold. He tried to get through to her, "Reese?" he questioned quietly. She said nothing, then he reached deep and used her given name, something he never did. It sounded strange coming off his tongue, even to him. His voice sounded deeper and husky, though that was not his intent as her name tumbled from his lips, "Dani, look at me," he demanded in a gentle plea.

She did and it was agonizing to watch the pain he saw in her eyes. "Don't tell me it's okay," she countered. She was back – not fully, but the woman he knew was still there.

"It's not okay, but it will be again – in time," he promised and kissed her forehead.

"Breathe, Dani," he deepened his breath intentionally seeking to demonstrate what she should do. He felt her ribcage rise and fall with his and when he looked down she'd fallen asleep. Her dark damp curls lay against his pale-scarred chest. He twisted them around his fingers and watched her sleep. Her features relaxed and she seemed at peace for the time being. He lay still and closed his eyes and when he awoke it was light outside and she was awake.

"I ought to shoot you," she said flatly. He knew she was joking to defray the peculiarity of the situation they found themselves in. She was naked, he was nearly that and they were entwined under a thick blanket. Anyone observing them would assume they were lovers.

"I'll leave so you can get dressed," he offered.

"Wait," she pressed a tiny hand down on his bare chest as he tried to rise. "Are you dressed?" she asked. There was a hint of smile on her face.

"Just what do you think happened last night?" He spoke with mock indignation, looking down at her and smiling, "I'll have you know I'm not that easy to get into bed," he teased.

The twinge he felt lower at her sly smile let him know it wouldn't be that much of a stretch. He wanted to kiss her perhaps more than he wanted out of solitary after two years inside, but she was his partner and she needed more than that from him.

This would be another of those things that they never spoke of or acknowledged. It was one of the reasons he was granted access to the Dani Reese no one else, not even Tidwell knew. His acceptance of her boundaries, her limitations and those places she would never look into were something they did not talk about. He knew that that his own forced familiarity with his own demons helped him to understand her reluctance. Some day she would steel herself, open that door and battle back against the darkness.

Until that day, he was her shield and it was not something they ever needed to talk about. She knew he would be there, never fail her and never demand more from her than she was willing to give. This acceptance of their lopsided relationship was yet another manifestation of a love affair that began years ago, might never be consummated; but that they both respected and honored. She was there for him in her own ways and times, but his needs were not as great or as often. It was a Pandora's box of emotions and potential - that for now remained tightly shut and she alone held the key.

He slid out of bed and walked to the living room. He did not look back. He waited until he heard the shower running again before he could relax and breath easily again. The things she did to him were beyond his ability to control.

She was showered and dressed in jeans a white shirt and her burgundy leather jacket. Her hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail, but her eyes were clear and there was no hint of her earlier emotion. She was the woman he knew again – his partner.

Charlie Crews was sitting in her living room in gray boxer briefs, almost every inch of his pale skin exposed. His muscled lean torso and long legs were the same fair color as the rest of him and his body bore freckles beyond those she saw daily on his face. The scarred body that he so carefully kept covered was laid bare for her to see. But he did not hide from her careful inspection. She had endured him being in her personal, private space, so he gave her this – quid pro quo. He sat still until her eyes left his body and returned to his.

"Uh, shower's yours," she pronounced with a flushed face. "Here's a razor," she said handing him a disposable, trying to move past it already. "I wrung out your clothes and put them in the dryer," she kept talking as he stared at the razor. "What is wrong with you?"

"It's pink," he swallowed hard.

"It's a razor," she sounded angry with him. He looked up and she was staring at him, hands on her hips, the toe tapping in annoyance. "Come-on Crews," she demanded, "get moving." She was back, solid and steady. They'd go to her mom's and she'd hold it together with him at her side. It was what partners did – watched each other's back.


	3. Chapter 3

**Dark Night Bright Soul **

**Chapter Three**

The car was quiet on the drive over there - to her parent's house. It was still early morning and traffic was light. Dani found herself fidgeting because Crews drove and she was used to doing that, but it was his car, so she reasoned he should. It still seemed strange to her.

"Is it weird that I'm driving us?" he echoed her thoughts. She said nothing. "Well, it is my car," he defended even though she didn't object. He was way too good at knowing what she was thinking and her look told him she didn't appreciate it.

"Stop reading my mind," she chided him.

"How will your mom be?" he changed subjects abruptly.

"You mean will she freak out like I did?" her guilt showed in her comment.

"I didn't say that," he countered.

He was right. He hadn't. He hadn't asked her about it or asked her to talk about it. He'd just been there – her rock – her blanket of cool, blue Zen. He didn't deserve her anger, but she knew he'd take it because he knew she needed to put it somewhere and he could swallow it in a deep pool of his Zen.

Her phone rang saving her from having to apologize like she should.

It was Tidwell. He could tell from the way her face changed when she saw the caller id. Her expression was an odd mixture of dread and resignation. _Not exactly what one should feel when your significant other called_ he considered. He realized that she was more comfortable with him than with Tidwell and he wasn't exactly sure what that said meant, but it made him wonder.

She was supposed to be happy with Tidwell, but what if she wasn't? _What if she felt trapped there?_ Because he was nice, he was acceptable. She was trying so hard to be normal, to do what was acceptable; her checklist was short - get promoted, move up the ladder, have a normal life. But Charlie knew the secret truth. There is no normal – there is just life.

What did the alternative offer? Seedy bars, strange men, dangerous liaisons, a downward spiral; these things were not good for her. They could only end in self-destruction and heartbreak, but so could aspiring to safety instead of love.

He wanted so much more for her. He wanted her to have someone who made her heart beat madly, who never asked her to be normal, average or ordinary when she could be spectacular, extraordinary. He wanted her to have someone to love; some who when their caller id showed on her phone – made her face light up.

Curiously, her voice was low, but terse and angry as he tried not to listen. Tidwell tended to treat her like she was fragile, which she hated. Dani was fragile, but she hated for anyone to see it, to know it, to intuit it or acknowledge it. Tidwell saw that fragility, but she bristled when he attempted to shield her, protect her. In those moments Charlie felt empathy for the man; he could not win this battle with her. Perhaps he knew it too – hence the reason for his call.

Tidwell was not a coward. He'd done his share of stupid but brave things and dealt with many distressed families in his career. Dani Reese was a unique conundrum to him, one he wanted to figure out but could not seem to crack the code on. He loved her – Crews was sure of it. He was good for her, supportive, balancing, funny and never mean, but that didn't mean she loved him.

It was one of the cruel twists of fate life hands us. Those we love most and most completely – may never love us back at all. It wasn't their fault; it just wasn't there – even if they wanted it to be. You can't fake that feeling – not for very long anyway.

Her phone call was over and he was still thinking about the fact that she deserved better than someone whose call she met with a mixture for dread and resignation.

"Crews," she barked. "Do you know where my mother lives?"

"Uh-huh," he nodded and tried not to say why.

But Dani was a smart cop, sometimes too smart, "Why?"

For a fraction of a second he toyed with the idea of lying, but found he couldn't. Betraying her confidence wasn't something he could do anymore. "Your father," he said levelly, "I followed your father. You know that," he answered truthfully.

"Right," she sighed. "For what he did to you, for what you thought he did to you," she muttered almost to herself, almost under her breath, almost….

"Reese…" he began.

"No," she stopped him. "I get it. I would want to know too. Why me right?" she offered her opinion his search was reasonable. "Did you ever find out?"

He stole a sideways glance and found her looking thoughtfully at him. Her eyes held no judgment, just curiosity. She didn't like her father, she didn't trust him but that didn't mean she didn't love him. He thought for a moment about his own relationship with his father. _Did he still love him?_ _Could he?_ Charlie wasn't sure.

In this way, Dani was stronger and yet more flexible than he – her world held the twin possibilities of loving someone and yet not liking him or her. That didn't exist in his world, not with his father, maybe be with Jen – but never with his father. Dani had an emotional capacity he lacked. She, who seemed so broken, actually functioned more fully than Mr. Zen. It struck him as funny, ironic.

A twisted grin graced his features, as he told her honestly, "no, I never found out." He didn't tell her he hadn't stopped looking. His search consumed him well into most nights long after their workday was over – his private inquiry continued. It led him on a dark and dangerous path that he walked alone by choice.

The Chaplain and uniformed patrol officer were leaving the house as they pulled to the curb in front of her childhood home. He watched her steel herself and glance at him. He tried to convey stability with his wane smile. He looked forward to the next hour like he did a root canal. He must have looked as uncomfortable as he felt, because she squeezed his forearm in sympathy before climbing from the car.

Her mother met them at the door; arms wrapped tightly around herself like her daughter had done hours earlier. It was unconscious and a gesture many people used, but something about the women made Charlie recognize a similarity that went far beyond their physical characteristics. Their affect was similar, like war veterans they greeted one another Dani hugging her mother warmly.

They turned and went inside, he trailed behind them. Dani awkwardly introduced him as simply, "Charlie," no explanation. Either her mother was supposed to know who he was or it wasn't important.

Dani's mother sat in the only single chair, which put them both on the couch. He took a seat at one end and was mildly surprised when Dani sat beside him instead as far away from him as she could get like she normally would. Maybe she meant for her mother to think he was a friend, but he had no chance to inquire.

Their conversation did not include him. He didn't even understand it since it was held entirely in Farsi, which he did not speak – not even a little. He didn't feel left out; it gave him time to observe.

Dani's mother was an attractive woman in her mid to late 40's. He was sure she had to be older than she looked because Dani was in her late 20's. He tried to do the math but gave up – he sucked at math, which was why he kept Ted around. She wore conservative clothes and a light blue cashmere sweater. Her coloring was darker than her daughter's; her brow, skin tone and even her hair more classically Persian. Coal accented her eyes, another tip of the Persian influence and something Dani did not do. She didn't need to. Had Dani Reese dressed and made herself up, he wouldn't get much work done – nor would most of the men in the squad. They'd spend all day looking at her.

Dani inherited something from her father beyond her temperament, which served to tone down the Persian but not by much, the women were unmistakably related. Beyond that their mannerisms were similar; he watched enthralled as hand gestures and expressions that he'd previously thought were uniquely Reese crossed her mother's weary face.

In the intervening time, he'd relaxed, sitting back and watching all the while sinking into the floral couch and becoming comfortable with the tone and tenor of their voices although he could not divine the words. His arm was draped across the back of the couch. When Dani sat back it was dangerously close to being around her, but she didn't seem to mind. Once she even smiled at him, feeling the brush of his hand on her shoulder during an intense moment he couldn't understand but felt.

Dani excused herself to visit the bathroom and her mother turned her attention to him. "You are my Dani's partner?" she asked directly.

"Charlie," he leaned forward and extended his hand. She shook his hand stiffly, but smiled warmly and asked again, "and you are Dani's partner?"

"Uh," he was suddenly nervous without warning, "that depends on what you mean by partner," he sought to qualify. "I work with her," he stammered, "and I'd like to think we are friends."

"I see," Mrs. Reese pursed her lips. "It's just she's never brought a man to the house before," she explained.

"Never?" Charlie wondered. That was indeed odd.

"Never," she confirmed. "You must be someone she trusts and she does not trust easily. I wonder if you know what a gift her trust is – Charlie," she tried on his name and found it strange to say.

"I….uh…yes," he nodded uncomfortably. "She's a…"

"Treasure, Charlie," Mrs. Reese said firmly. "My daughter is a treasure and any man who does not recognize this is…"

"Unenlightened," he provided. She nodded.

"I like to think I'm a pretty enlightened fellow," he offered. "I know how lucky I am to be here – with her. Not that I'm with her – with her, but just…" he stumbled trying to define the his precise nature of his relationship with his partner. He was saved by Dani's return.

She gave him an odd looking and slight smile. "What are you guys talking about?"

"Treasure," Charlie spoke truthfully without explaining further.

"I will make tea," her mother announcing, rose and left.

"I like tea," he offered cheerfully. Dani elbowed him. Again upon her return, Dani had chosen to sit with him, near him and now that they were alone it was a little odd. Then he forced himself to relax and subconsciously began to breath deeply willing her to mirror him. To his great surprise she did and he saw her relax.

"How'd it go?" he asked in a deep but quiet tone, drawing her in to his space with his voice. He was amazed when she leaned back feeling the warmth of his arm along her back. She exhaled as he gently rubbed her shoulder and waited.

"She wants the whole full honors funeral and Departmental shebang," she sighed.

He knew she'd endure it but Dani didn't welcome a hero's send off for a man she knew was no hero. He also knew that despite the looks and comments from their peers - he'd go and stand beside her because that's what partners did.

"Did she ask how?" he inquired again in a husky conspiratorial tone.

"God, no," she almost laughed, "and don't even attempt to tell her. My mother does not want to know about the – her words – "filth" – we deal with on the street. We never brought work home, me or….Dad."

"Now I'm sorry I didn't dress better. She probably thinks I'm a homeless guy," he joked hoping to break the mood.

She glanced up at him and his clear blue eyes smiled back at her. "Yeah, a homeless guy with a Ferrari," she poked fun at him.

"Maserati," he corrected.

"Whatever," she brushed his correction aside. "Your car cost more than this house," she commented. He was embarrassed and fell silent. "Thanks for doing this," she said holding his eyes, "for coming with me."

"It's what partner's do," he smiled.

"No," she corrected, "it's what family does."

He was speechless. She'd rendered him speechless with those four little words – _it's what family does. Was that what they were? Family?_ He had no one closer than her in his life. He didn't want anyone else but her.

"You sure you wouldn't rather Tidwell was here?" he pressed her.

"No," she was firm in her denial and he believed her. "Tidwell is just someone I sleep with," she laid out her relationship dispassionately for him and didn't look away when she told him.

"Sleep with but don't love?" he probed far beyond the point he knew was safe.

Her eyes questioned him silently, but whatever she saw there must have passed muster because she let him have it – the whole unvarnished truth. "That's right," she told him. "It's all I'm capable of right now. And it's better than what I used to do," she offered.

"As long as he makes you happy," he reassured her.

"He's safe," she told him. "I don't think he can make me happy."

"You're right about that," Charlie responded honestly. "Only you can make you happy," he held her eyes and sold the truth to her with him.

"I know," she said and she sounded stronger than he'd ever thought possible. Hours before she was a basket case, but now she was stronger than steel. He admired her so much. The kettle whistled and they joined her mother in the kitchen for tea.

_Author's Note:__ I have to give credit to a dear and devoted reader who encouraged me to explore this when I had originally intended it as a "one shot." So credit for the fleshing out of this tale – which essentially is how Crews saving Reese saves him (from living a detached and loveless though Zen life – goes to Kanbukai (Life fan and steadfast reviewer). That act changes both of them forever and links them eternally._


	4. Chapter 4

**Dark Night Bright Soul**

**Chapter Four**

Caller ID told her it was Charlie Crews. She answered the phone the way she always did, with just her name, pronounced dispassionately, despite knowing it was her partner. "Reese," she said sounding awake and alert. There was no way he could know she was alone as well.

"Uh…it's me," he sounded faraway and a bit lost, "Charlie," he qualified.

"I know that Crews," she sighed in annoyance. Then there was a long silence, long enough to make her regret her expression of frustration with him.

"Are you…busy?" his euphemism for her being with Tidwell.

"No," she said succinctly, no color commentary.

She'd been spending less and less time with her sometimes boyfriend of the past year, but Crews didn't need to know that. She knew that knowing he was not interrupting them would both disappoint him and conversely make him feel less guilty about calling.

She wasn't a fool; there was something dangerous about her relationship waning with Tidwell at the same time she and Crews travelled deeper and deeper into each other's personal lives. It was something they chose not to speak about or acknowledge - an unspoken agreement they both felt but would never give voice to. Things changed that day in the orange grove and despite their better collective attempts to stay in the past, "now" was happening every day, dragging them into the future (whether they wanted it to or not).

"Crews?" she questioned, "What's wrong?"

He gave her details about why he called in small terse bites, "I need your help. It's Rachel," he explained without really telling her anything. "I told her about your father," he gutted out a bit more, "and she didn't, she isn't…" He sighed heavily, "I don't know what to do."

"I'm on my way," she said. She wasn't even sure why she said it, just a feeling that he needed her and she owed him. It couldn't be that she wanted to be with him or near it. It had to be the former. But she could hear the relief in his voice as clearly as you could see clouds moving across the sky on a summer day, as a whispered "Yeah?" and "Good, that's good." He was babbling to himself, like he used to when they first met that meant it was bad.

She hurried to her little Toyota hybrid and raced through the night to him. She wasn't entirely sure why Rachel would take her father's death that hard, which made curious, but Charlie's state was what worried her, what made her drive too fast.

* * *

><p>Rachel was in her room, behind a slammed door crying, reducing him to this – calling Dani Reese for help. Dani Reese who didn't really relate well to kids, but then Rachel wasn't a child anymore. She was a broken, damaged, young woman and no one knew that dark path better than his partner.<p>

He hadn't known Rachel would take the news of Jack's death so hard. He'd not really prepared for it; he just blurted it out like a sports score. He'd never anticipated she'd take it so hard. But she wasn't like Dani. He couldn't go in there and console her – for some reason it was different - he was different - and he wasn't what she wanted. He briefly considered calling Jen, but settled on Dani. She was the better choice for a number of reasons.

Of course that didn't keep him from agonizing over his decision the entire time the phone was ringing, but he felt relieved the moment her voice floated down the phone line. Once again, his partner did not disappoint. He didn't want to be relieved she was coming to his rescue, but he was. If she'd been there in person, he would have had to resist the impulse to throw his arms around her and hug her, but she wasn't here – not yet.

He paced and listened, but Rachel could not be heard. He wondered what it said about them - this situation. He'd been the one to break the news to Dani and help her through her meltdown. Now she was coming to help him. There was something profound in that but he couldn't quite put a name to it. Maybe he didn't want to.

Dani Reese's life and his were entangled far beyond work. It was something he hadn't planned for – her in his life, but people weren't clutter. They weren't dining room tables; they were as essential as air to a real life truly lived. He realized holding them at bay, keeping them at arms length - protected him, but it also made him a prisoner. He could only watch, observe while life was lived around him – never participate, never truly live. Only his connections to people made life real and the only person he was really connected to in any meaningful way had just barged through his front door.

She no longer bothered to knock – she just walked in like she belonged there because - maybe she did. He stared at her and she gestured confusion with exaggerated movement of her shoulders. They didn't need words some times. He shrugged and pointed mutely at the closed door down the long broad hallway.

She shook her head and walked to stand in front of him. "No," she demanded, "I'm not pulling your ass out of the fire until you tell me how and why she knows my father."

He sighed and ran hand through his hair mussing it, before jamming both hands deep in the front pockets of his jeans. "Now?" sounding a bit like a little boy.

"No time like the present," she quipped. She wasn't demanding as his senior partner, as a Detective, she was demanding because he owed her this truth. She repeated her demand when he scowled and remained stubbornly mute, "now Crews."

"She knows him because," he began then stopped and looked directly at her. He started again holding her eyes, "she knows him because he hid her from the people who are looking for her, the people who set me up for those murders."

He watched her recoil and the pain blossomed behind her eyes. It was worse than she'd suspected. Her father was not just a mean man, he was a bad man and Charlie had known the truth of it for a long time. He kept the knowledge from her, but she knew instinctively it was to protect her. Knowing would do her no good; it could only bring her pain.

"Okay," she said softly still processing the information. "So to her," she reasoned aloud, "he's still a good guy, maybe the only good guy she knew," Dani worked it out in her head, "until you." Her addition was a subconscious absent thought, one she did not intend to speak aloud as she tried hard never to compliment Crews.

He pulled one hand from his pants pocket and reached for her, "Dani…"

"Stay here," she wheeled away from his gesture, his contact, his touch and strode to Rachel's door. She rapped sharply twice before twisting the knob and entering whether she was wanted or not. The door shut behind her and Crews was once again plunged into silence.

Ordinarily, he loved silence; he sought it, now it pressed on him like a burden.

The two people closest to him were locked behind a wall of wood and he couldn't see, hear, touch or smell them. It was driving him crazy. He reached for Zen and found it hollow and empty. He wanted them, his girls, his family, his almost niece, his nearly daughter and her - Dani. He realized he could no longer truly define what Dani was to him. More than a partner, past family, not yet a lover, but she was as essential to a man without needs as air. Without her he felt lost; this was how he arrived at the conclusion he was in love – and in very deep trouble.


	5. Chapter 5

**Dark Night Bright Soul – Coda**

When she left Rachel's room, the girl was asleep, having talked and cried herself out. Rachel's trust in her father could have been Dani's - if she were still that young and still that naïve. It was amazing that with all Rachel Seybolt had endured she could still be in some ways innocent.

She realized that in effect they were all victims of Jack Reese – Charlie, Rachel and her. He had stolen Charlie's life, destroyed her self-confidence and betrayed Rachel's trust. He had betrayed each of them all in some way and damaged each one of them terribly, perhaps irrevocably. Rachel alone seemed to possess the power to recover, but she wondered if the girl had the willpower. Will was something both she and Charlie had in abundance – it was perhaps the reason they were both still alive. Some of the damage could not be repaired.

It was classic cause and effect. Jack Reese was that butterfly that beat his wings creating a hurricane and Charlie Crews was that hurricane. He was capable of completely switching off his emotions and doing terrible things, but Charlie Crews was not those things. He was not that man – that storm. He had saved her and now the reason had become clear why. She was to save him too. She was to save him from damage her father had done by being there for him to keep him from indulging his dark delights and his powerful need for vengeance.

Somehow she knew now what before had been so muddled and unclear. She wanted to tell him; to share her truth, but Charlie was gone. She listened for him and could detect nothing. No sound or movement in the house. He wouldn't have left; he wouldn't have retired to bed. _Where was he? _She wondered.

Her quest took her once again to stand by his side in the dark. She found her answer standing on the stone patio staring at the lonely moon in the sky. He was her answer just as she was his. She gentled him, he balanced her; only the fracture forms of each possessed the particular brand of magic required to heal the other.

He looked so fragile, so alone. She stood beside him and reached out - like she had that day in the sunshine of his orange grove. It seemed so long ago. The path they travelled on was neither time nor trajectory; it wound its way around their broken hearts and took its time in getting them there.

It was profound, her reaching for him. His brain told him, but his heart wouldn't accept it. He did not reject her, but he did not acknowledge her either. Nothing in his affect changed, he accepted her hand in his, but he did no return her gesture.

"Charlie…" she called him back to her.

"Yeah," his response was soft but absent something.

"I need you to be here," she told him simply.

Her use of traditional Zen terms made his lips twitch, part of him wanted to smile, but he resisted. He didn't feel like smiling. He felt angry. Jack Reese was dead and he was still hurting his girls. There was no one left to be angry with – to visit pain and vengeance upon.

"He's gone, but what he did lives on unless we choose not to let it," she told him her secret. "You, me, Rachel, we have to choose life instead of hiding from the pain. He's gone, but he still wins unless we don't let him."

"What's stopping you from moving on?" he asked.

"You," she surprised him.

"Me?" he twisted his head to look at her.

"Like it or not, Crews…. You and I are connected," she said. "I can't move on. I won't move on….without you, without my partner." Her play was bold and so very unlike the Dani he knew. But he reflected, the Dani he knew was a pale shadow of vibrant woman he knew instinctively she could be; the one who lurked beneath her tarnished exterior.

Two nights ago, she'd needed his strength and he'd needed her trust. Now their positions were reversed. They were the dark fish and pale fish chasing one another in the drawing from his Zen book – yin and yang, ebb and flow. They completed each other just as the Zen tape had described all those long months ago.

_We even have a word for when you plus another equals one – that word is love. _

There was more than one kind of love; which one this was - he could not know. He flexed his fingers around her small hand, gripping it, accepting her, taking that one small step in her direction. She smiled at him. He was there with her – in that moment and he would be there in the next. Beyond that no one could see and no one could know.

* * *

><p><em><span>Author's Note<span>__: The inspiration for this story comes from a 16__th__ century Spanish poem called "La noche oscura del alma" or Dark Night of the Soul, but Roman Catholic mystic Saint John of the Cross. He was a Carmelite priest __imprisoned by his Carmelite brothers, who opposed his reformations to the Order._

His poem narrates the journey of the soul from its bodily home to its union with God. The journey occurs during the night, which represents the hardships and difficulties the soul meets in detachment from the world and reaching the light of the union with the Creator. There are several steps in this night, which are related in successive stanzas. The main idea of the poem can be seen as the painful experience that people endure as they seek to grow in spiritual maturity and union with God. The poem is divided into two books that reflect the two phases of the dark night. The first is a purification of the senses. The second and more intense of the two stages is that of the purification of the spirit, which is the less common of the two.

_Dark Night of the Soul_ further describes the ten steps on the ladder of mystical love, previously described by Saint Thomas Aquinas and in part by Aristotle. In Buddhist vipassana meditation, the practitioner passes through the "Sixteen Stages of Insight" (_nanas_)

_I envisioned Charlie's quest for Zen as very much like this process. He seeks purification for the temptations of the flesh – separation from his senses and attachment to those things and purification of his spirit to purge the vengefulness he feels and the revenge he wants to seek, but knows he should not. He and Reese are both on a journey in the dark – they provide light to each other. It's what sustains them both. _


End file.
